


The Price Of A Bullet

by Hekate1308



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, M/M, Spoilers for season 9 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all because the stupid son of a bitch had had to jump in front of him. If he hadn’t, things wouldn’t be nearly as complicated as they were now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price Of A Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Destiel Ficlet Challenge on tumblr. My prompt was "Person A is about to be shot and Person B jumps in the way". Enjoy.

It was all because the stupid son of a bitch had had to jump in front of him. If he hadn’t, things wouldn’t be nearly as complicated as they were now.

Even as a demon, he couldn’t catch a fucking break.

He was kneeling next to the angel, trying to quench the blood that kept pouring out of his chest. Shouldn’t he be healed right now?

“You know, you could help a little” he all but screamed.

Cas looked at him, his eyes hooded.

“Not enough Grace…” he managed to say.

Shit. He had a bleeding Angel of the Lord at his hands, and all because an idiot of a hunter had tried to make a replica of a Colt to gank Dean. As if that would work. He’d known right away that it was a fake, everyone would have known. Everyone except a stupid angel who had barged into the room, seen what was happening, and jumped right in front of him.

The only thing the bullet would have done to him was ruining his shirt.

Instead of having to get a new one, he was trying to save an Angel, and it made him angry. Really, he should just leave him there, next to the body of the hunter. Dean had taken care of him immediately.

Would serve Cas right. Let his own find him.

He pressed harder on the wound, and the blood flow stilled somewhat.

“Can’t you send out an Angel 991 or something?” he asked.

“Like I said…” Cas said, his eyelids drooping.

“Come on, stay awake! Pray” Dean ordered. Angels neither heard his prayers, nor would they answer if they could. He wasn’t looking forward to be in a room with the dicks, but if they could help Cas, so be it.

“Can’t” the angel said tiredly.

“What, you ain’t got enough mojo to heal yourself, but too much to pray?” Figured. The winged bastards probably wouldn’t come anyway, not when Cas hadn’t punished Dean when he should have. At least he didn’t have to worry about anyone smiting him while he was treating the wound.

Cas’ breathing grew laboured and Dean thought distractedly that he was probably going to die.

And then everything came crashing.

Because Cas was going to die.

Cas, who had rebelled against Heaven for him and Sam, who had helped them stop the Apocalypse. He was going to die here, and there was nothing Dean could do. If only he’d not stepped in the damn devil’s trap. It was obvious, really, the guy had placed the carpet exactly in the middle of the room in an abandoned building.

Next time Crowley could go check if the Colt was really the Colt himself. Next time he came with one of his stupid assignments, Dean would just use the Blade on him.

That reminded him. The blade. It was buried in the hunter’s chest. No way of getting to it now.

Cas groaned. Dean frantically began to talk to him, his words stumbling out of his mouth without permission, speaking about everything and nothing, only to keep him awake.

He hadn’t thought about the things he talked about in two months, he hadn’t remembered them, and it hadn’t been a conscious effort. He hadn’t had amnesia when he had woken up as a demon, but the memories had been dulled, seemingly unimportant.

Now everything came crashing back.

How he had stabbed Cas at their first meeting; how he and Cas and Sam had shared a motel room; the night at the brothel; when he found Cas after he’d thought him lost in a lake; the moment the agent showed up after Dean having seen him everywhere.

While he was talking, he was fighting against the devil’s trap, straining his powers. He had to get out, he had to get Cas somewhere they could treat him properly…

Cas was barely awake now, and Dean was certain that he didn’t understand anything he was saying, but then the angel smiled at him, his eyes clear again.

“My Dean…”

He said it reverently, like a prayer, and Dean remembered long stares and too little knowledge of personal space and healing touches.

Cas’ eyes closed and Dean screamed.

“Don’t you die on me, you son of a bitch!”

The door burst open, and Dean turned around, any care about himself forgotten. If it was a hunter, he’d help Cas.

It was a hunter.

It was Sam.

Dean remembered that he hadn’t changed his eyes back to green. He rarely did.

They stared at one another.

Then Sam asked, in a broken voice, “Dean?”

**Two months earlier**

Crowley hadn’t come. He had been the one to drive Dean to all of this, to make him take the mark, and he hadn’t come. Sam wouldn’t stop. He’d summon him if need be. He needed his brother. He needed his brother back, alive and healthy. It didn’t matter what he would have to do. As long as Dean was alive, he could handle it.

He stopped before Dean’s door. He remembered carrying his brother in his room, laying him down on his bed; he had already died in his arms. It shouldn’t be difficult to go in and see his body, but it was.

He opened the door. He had to face the reality that Dean was dead for the time being; it would strengthen his resolve.

Dean was gone.

His brother’s body was gone.

For a moment, Sam stared at the bed, uncomprehending.

Then he searched the bunker. It was useless to hope that Dean would be there, but he had to check nonetheless. When he had satisfied himself that this was not the case, he collapsed in a chair and buried his head in his hands.

Who would take his brother’s body? Crowley hadn’t come to Sam, so he wasn’t interested in deal, therefore why should he be interested in Dean’s remains? It couldn’t be angels, because they would probably be relieved that he was gone, and no one else would have made it into the bunker without Sam noticing.

There was another possibility. Dean could be alive – could have been brought back – and he could have gone. But why would he do that? His brother would stay, make sure he was alright even though he had just come back to life.

No, someone took him, and Sam was going to find him.

He prayed to Cas, but the angel didn’t answer, didn’t call him. Of course he would choose such a time to be busy.

A thought shot through him and Sam ran back into the room and looked for the Blade. It was gone.

Whoever had done this had taken both Dean and the Blade.

He’d get him back, and then they would find out how to remove the mark. Sam didn’t allow himself to think about any other outcome, and quickly sent out messages to all hunters he knew. He needed all the help he could get.

* * *

 

There was nothing he could do. He had heard Sam’s prayer loud and clear, but he didn’t bother calling. There was nothing he could do.

_It’s Sam. I need help. Dean’s gone._

He knew. Metatron had told him.

_He is dead too._

If he had been able to scream, he would have, his pain shattering Heaven, like his cry of triumph when he had saved the Righteous Man all those years ago. But he had been struck silent, the truth pressing down on him, silencing him, suffocating him.

Dean Winchester was dead.

His Grace was draining, but he didn’t care; for the first time since he had stolen it, since he had taken what wasn’t his, he didn’t care. Time had stopped, and nothing lay before him but this endless grief.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he had come to realize that he loved Dean Winchester, like only humans could, like only humans should, and once he had admitted it to himself, Dean Winchester had died. He would not see him again; he wouldn’t see his soul burning brightly; he wouldn’t feel his green eyes on him; he would never hear his prayers again. Dying seemed like a blessing.

He ignored all of Sam’s further prayers, barely listened to them. He knew Sam wanted his help, but he wasn’t able to give any. They could do nothing but strengthen each other’s grief, so he decided to stay away from the younger Winchester.

He just wanted to be an angel, like he should have been, like he had been for a long part of his existence. And yet the few years he had spent knowing Dean seemed so much more important.

All of that was gone now. He was an angel. For the short time that he had left.

* * *

 

Dean had the time of his life.

Sure, he knew that his old self would have ganked his new one the moment he laid eyes on him, and that Sammy would bitch if he ever found out, and that Cas had had more important things to do than look for him, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, and that was fun.

More fun than he could have imagined. Having sex when he wanted, without wondering if he should give the girl – or guy, he suddenly found that his reluctance to admit his bisexuality was gone alongside his humanity his number because the answer was a simply “No”, drinking without fearing the hangover, eating without ever getting full, and sleeping when he wanted, even though he didn’t need it. And he could kill, of course.

That didn’t mean he just killed people at random. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, and really, he preferred a challenge. He mostly killed demons and monsters that came to fight, some of them on Crowley’s orders, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a choice.

Crowley might have expected a minion, but that wasn’t what had woken up on Dean’s bed. He knew what he could do, and Crowley knew that he could kill him with the Blade, and that he would do it if he annoyed him too much. They weren’t partners, he was barely tolerating the guy, but sometimes the assignments were fun, so he took them.

Life was good. For the first time in a very, very long time.

Sometimes he wondered if Sammy was looking for him, but it wasn’t important. He was looking for another Dean, someone who actually cared about this piece of crap that called itself their life.

It was all easy, it was all good, until Crowley commanded him to check if the Colt had indeed reappeared.

* * *

 

Sam was growing desperate. It had been weeks since his brother had disappeared, and he had nothing to show for his effort to find him but too little sleep and desperation that threatened to overwhelm him. 

Cas didn’t answer his prayers, and he couldn’t summon Crowley, even though he had tried. No hunter could tell him anything, no psychic he had asked had helped. To top it all off, he noticed signs that a powerful demon was near; lightning storms, power failing in homes all over the country.

He didn’t want to pursue it, but Dean would have wanted him to.

He soon found out that the signs seemed to point to the centre of a town not far from the bunker and set off, sending a prayer to Cas, more out of habit than anything else.

He didn’t expect to find the angel in the abandoned building he barged into.

Nor did he expect his brother looking at him with demon eyes.

* * *

 

Cas had become good at ignoring Sam’s prayers. There were many mentions of Dean. He didn’t listen. He knew the hunter would have been disappointed that he was ignoring his brother’s pain, but he was crippled by his own, feeling it down to the very farthest reaches of his stolen and dying Grace.

It wouldn’t be long now. His powers were weakening.

When humans died, they had hope. He had nothing.

And then a prayer rang out, and he didn’t know why he listened. Maybe because he missed Sam just as much as he missed Dean, even though in a different way.

_I have to check on something – think it’s a demon. Have to take a break from my search for Dean._

_My search for Dean._

The words kept ringing in his head, very human hope surging through his being.

Sam was looking for Dean.

Dean wasn’t dead.

He had to go where Sam was. Now.

He knew immediately where the demon was. He had been a fool not to notice it sooner. It was powerful. He felt ashamed – Sam would need him. He should watch out for the little brother Dean had done everything for.

He really missed his wings, but he made it there just in time.

He ran into the room and saw the hunter pointing a gun that looked like the Colt at the demon.

The demon that was Dean.

He knew in an instant what the Mark had done; he knew what had happened; he knew this wasn’t Dean anymore; but he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him die, and he jumped in front of him as the shot rang out.

There was pain in his chest, and he realized that this hadn’t been the real Colt, otherwise he would be dead.

He saw a demon hovering above him, but beneath the demon, there was _Dean_. Looking at him, trying to save him.

He could die happy.

His eyes slid shut.

He heard Dean scream, the door bang open and slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Sam stared at the scene before him. Cas was bleeding, possible dying, something that must have to do with his stolen Grace, and Dean was holding him.

And looking at Sam with black eyes.

Dean was a demon.

He swallowed, unable to move.

They stared at one another.

Dean broke the silence.

“I know you want to give me your best bitchface, but can we focus on the more important stuff now? Let me out, we need to get Cas some help.”

It sounded so much like his brother that Sam automatically scratched away a part of the devil’s trap, and in the next moment, they were standing in front of a hospital.

He was surprised that Dean hadn’t taken them to the emergency unit, then remembered that they couldn’t just appear and freak people out.

They dragged him in, Dean quickly telling the nurse that rushed towards them that “they’d found him at the side of the road and thought he’d bleed out before anyone could get there” and he was too calm, too calm to be his brother, but then Sam looked at him and saw the panic in his eyes. Luckily he had remembered to change them to green.

Half an hour later, Cas was in surgery and Dean was pacing up and down. Sam was sitting on a plastic chair, his words caught in his throat. There was so much to talk about, and he couldn’t utter a sentence.

Eventually, he said, “Dean”.

He stopped and looked at Sam. The younger man saw the worry in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. Dean was worried – panicking.

All thoughts of him being a demon fled Sam’s mind as he jumped up and hugged him.

He was glad he was alive, and this was his brother. There could be no mistaking of his routine when someone he cared for was hurt. Demons didn’t care for anything, but Dean still cared for Cas. That meant he had to care for Sam too. He refused to believe otherwise.

Dean stood stunned, but then he hugged back. He hadn’t thought he’d ever be hugged again, hadn’t cared that he wouldn’t. But the memories came and went before his mind’s eye, and he wondered why he had never gone to Sam in these two months. He was a demon, but Sam was his brother. Shouldn’t that be stronger than anything?

He let go and stepped back, feeling confused. He had enjoyed being a demon, and he could feel the pull of the Blade, making him want to kill, making him want to be a real demon, but one look at his brother’s face and he couldn’t disappear.

And then of course there was Cas.

The hug had momentarily distracted him from why they were here, but it all came back: Trying to still the blood, talking to Cas, feeling so helpless, so angry…

Sam was just as concerned as he was, he realized; his brother was shaking, and there were tears in his eyes.

“It’s gonna be alright Sammy” he said slowly, even if he didn’t know if it was true.

He refused to believe that Cas was going to die because the big baby couldn’t distinguish one gun from the other. And he was an angel, with diminished Grace and all. Shouldn’t they know better than to sacrifice their lives for demons?

He was growing angry again, the Blade calling out to him.

Sam must have noticed the straightening of his shoulders because he quickly said, “I know. Dean – why did you – “

“Leave?” He shrugged. “Figured you didn’t want a demon around the place. And Crowley had a job for me”.

He didn’t know whether Sam was disappointed or not. And he didn’t know why that bothered him. Except that he did.

He was a poor excuse of a demon.

“You are working with Crowley?”

They were completely calm now, ignoring the fact that Cas being operated. It was easier this way.

“I do what he wants if I want” he explained. “He knows I could kill him any moment. He’s careful”.

“I tried to call him, you know. Bring you back to life.”

“I know. Wasn’t necessary”. Dean looked at the Mark. “I don’t think it’s going to be necessary anytime soon”.

Sam swallowed, and he knew that he would have to answer many questions, but a crashing patient in a room near them brought their focus back on where they were.

 “What happened?” Sam asked softly.

“A hunter thought he could rebuild the Colt. Cas saw it and jumped in front of me. Wouldn’t have done me any harm, but…” Dean shook his head. “The idiot”.

Sam remembered the hunter, the Blade that had killed him. He didn’t say anything about that. Instead, he said, “You took us here”.

“I can teleport. I’m pretty powerful, not like these lame-ass sons of bitches we hunted”.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Last time I checked, Cas was shot – “

“Dean, you left. You didn’t call. For two months, I have been looking for you. You could have left Cas with me and vanished. You didn’t. Why?”

That question reminded him of thoughts, wishes, desires that he had kept hidden all these years, even from himself.

He could have gone into a demon range, or disappeared. He did neither. It was all useless now anyway.

“You know why”.

Sam stared at him, unblinking.

Maybe Dean would have laughed if this had been any other situation. He had finally manage to silence his little brother.

“What?” he snapped. “Not as if it matters now. I thought I’d left it behind me. Left everything behind me”. He let himself fall on a chair.

“But he just had to sacrifice himself…” he muttered.

He looked up. Sam was still staring at him, his mouth open.

“Wanna catch a fly? It’s no use, pretending now” he said angrily. “Even if Cas survives, which he won’t, what then? Angel, demon, hunter working together?”

He felt the weight that had been crushing him for years return. Just when he had thought he’d escaped it…

There was a hand on his shoulder. Sam was looking at him, something like relief and panic in his eyes. It was a strange mixture.

“He’s going to pull through. He’s Cas. And we’ll figure something out. Remember when I tried to heal Crowley?”

“Don’t think the Mark’s gonna allow that.”

“Then we’ll figure out something else” Sam said.

Dean laughed. “Look at me. Pretty human for a demon”.

“Yes” Sam said, and now there was only relief in his eyes, momentarily extinguishing the worry for Cas.

“You’re still the same annoying jerk you’ve always been.”

They laughed before they grew sombre again and the waiting started.

Hour after hour, they sat on the chairs, waiting for news. Dean got up and paced from time to time. Sometimes, he felt the pull of the Blade, his worry and helplessness all but begging him to do what he did best, but a word, a look from Sam was enough to get him back on track.

He didn’t even have the distractions Sam had, getting something to eat and coffee and falling asleep after many fruitless hours. He didn’t need it. And he was too nervous to attempt it without needing it.

He looked at Sam and envied his sleep.

He clenched his hands into fists when he felt the pull again. Think of Sam. Think of Cas.

As the urge to slaughter anything near him subsided he prayed. He knew no one would hear, since he was a demon, but maybe it’d help. He’d seen stranger things.

_Let him live. He didn’t let a demon die. That’s all he did. He doesn’t deserve to die over me._

A door opened and a doctor stumbled out, clearly exhausted.

Dean shook Sam’s shoulder. He jumped up.

They looked at the doctor. He gave them a tiny nod.

The relief made Dean feel human.

It took a week for Cas to wake up, and only because he had survived the surgery didn’t mean he wouldn’t die.

Dean stayed at his side. The staff told him to leave when visiting hours were over, so he went and transported back into Cas’ room. Easy, really. Sam was there a lot too, but Dean insisted he return to the Bunker and get some sleep every once in a while. He was too thin, too. Couldn’t take care of himself.

Dean was by him when Cas moved and groaned. It was in the middle of the night, so he pressed the call button and vanished. He didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing there.

And he wasn’t sure that Cas wanted to see him.

He was a demon, albeit one that was acting pretty human for now. Cas was an angel. He would consider him an abomination.

He’d jumped in front of him out of instinct, for the memory of the man he had been.

Dean sent Sam to the hospital the next day. His brother gave him a bitch face but he only said that he would see if he could find any information on the Mark. Not that there was much to go on. He hadn’t even found Cain, even though he’d been pretty keen on dying the last time he saw him. Life was a bitch.

Sam walked down the hallway that led to Cas’ room. Dean should have gone with him. The angel would ask about him.

He pushed the door open and saw the joy on his friend’s face as well as the disappointment when he realized he was alone.

It didn’t take him longer than answering a few questions of how he was feeling to ask about Dean.

“Where is Dean?”

“At the bunker”.

He clearly hadn’t expected the answer, and he gently said, as if trying to convey bad news, “He is – “

“A demon. I know. He also still eats pie and won’t let anyone touch his baby”.

Cas smiled. Then he became said again, asking, “Why isn’t – “

“Because he doesn’t think you want to see him” Sam answered. Dean hadn’t told him, but he knew his brother.  

“Because he is a demon”.

Sam nodded.

Cas shook his head in a very human gesture and muttered, “He’s an idiot”.

Sam couldn’t help but smile. But there were other, more pressing topics they had to talk about.

“You didn’t heal yourself”.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“My Grace was diminishing. I was dying”.

Sam stared at the angel who didn’t seem to care that the Grace he had taken was slowly killing him –

Past tense. He had used past tense.

“Was?”

“I thought it meant that I would vanish. Be gone”. Cas looked down on his hands. “I think that for any other angel it would have. But I was already to human. It simply meant that every bit of Grace I had left died – and it doesn’t make much of a difference. I’m just – me. Cas. Human.”

“Human?”

“Permanently” Cas confirmed.

He was looking at his hands, the floor, anywhere but Sam, and he knew why. Cas was human. Which meant he needed…

“You’ll stay with us”.

Cas looked up.

“This time, no one’s going to kick you out” Sam said. “I promise.”

“Dean –“

“Is still the same. Yeah, sometimes he gets that expression on his face, and you have to snap him out of it, but it’s under control.”

For a moment, he thought Cas was going to say no. Then he nodded.

Cas was released a few weeks later. Sam and Dean barely spoke about it, and Dean never went to visit him, although Sam suspected that he checked on the former angel when he was asleep.

Sam picked him up, having been allowed to drive the Impala for the occasion (like he had done the two months Dean had been gone, but they rarely talked about this time; they rarely talked about the fact that Dean wasn’t the same brother who had disappeared).

Cas was happy to be out, pale and thin, and nervous about meeting Dean, even though he didn’t mention it.

The younger hunter half feared that his brother would be gone when he arrived, but he sat in the living room, his laptop in front of him.

He didn’t acknowledge them until Cas said “Hello, Dean”.

He looked up with eyes that were always green now – Sam didn’t think he’d seen them black since the day he’d found him – and said, “Hey, Cas”.

Cas went to the room they had prepared for him shortly afterwards, but at least they were talking.

Cas couldn’t sleep. His body was tired, still recuperating, but he couldn’t sleep.

Dean was here. He was a demon, but he was here, and he had brought him to the hospital and hadn’t left. A few times, Cas had woken up at night to find him by his bedside; he had never let him know that he was awake. But Dean had been there.

Cas was no coward. He was a fool, he was a human who had been an angel and lost everything, but no coward. And they needed to talk.

He found Dean in his room, listening to music. He stood there, looking at him, until the hunter opened his eyes. He quickly sat up.

“Didn’t I tell you about personal space?”

“I knocked. You didn’t answer”. He was silent for a moment before he continued, “Dean, I – “

“I know. I am a demon and you almost died because of me. You’re probably human because of that, too. Drained your Grace faster. If you’re here to tell me you hate me… Don’t worry, I’ve remembered how much I hate myself. Don’t need anyone to do it for me.”

With these words, he would have closed his eyes and turned on his Ipod again, but Cas snatched it from his hand.  

“Dean” he said slowly, “why didn’t you leave?”

“Why did you jump in front of a gun?” the demon challenged, his eyes turning black, and Cas knew he should be afraid, but he had lost his angel vision and only saw Dean’s face with black eyes. It wasn’t scary. And he thought that if he had been able to see Dean’s true form he wouldn’t have been afraid either.

His eyes were black, but somehow Cas saw everything in them.

“We both know why” he said softly, his soul – his soul, his human soul – crying out in joy.

Dean moved back on the bed.

“Cas – “ he said softly, “do you –“ He looked away. “This can’t – do you even know what sort of problems – “

“Yes” Cas said. “I know”.

And there would be. Dean was a demon, and the Mark was still on his arm, its call making him want to kill. There were other demons and monsters and more challenges out there. But they couldn’t change anything about that at the moment.

What they could change was what was right in front of them.

Cas pressed his lips against Dean’s.

He didn’t reject him.


End file.
